


Foreplay

by DictionaryWrites



Series: i'm emo over gabriel nbd [3]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Awkward Sexual Situations, Aziraphale Has A Vulva (Good Omens), Bottom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Casual Sex, Complicated Relationships, Gabriel Has A Penis (Good Omens), Intimacy, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, POV Aziraphale (Good Omens), Teasing, Top Gabriel (Good Omens), Unrequited Crush, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-02
Updated: 2019-06-02
Packaged: 2020-04-06 16:31:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19066393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites/pseuds/DictionaryWrites
Summary: “Sandalphon was talking about sex, and he said—”“What does Sandalphon know about it?”“A lot, actually! And he was saying that humans do something called forehead play—”“Foreplay.”“To make their bodies, you know, juicy.”





	Foreplay

“Don’t they do other stuff?” Gabriel asked, and Aziraphale glanced up at him as his fingers keep moving on Gabriel’s coat, pushing it off his broad shoulders and down over his arms. They could do it with a bit of a miracle, he supposed, but he should hate to write it down on the form – however would he explain it?

“What’s that, dear?” he asked, distractedly, and Gabriel cupped his cheeks and kissed him, pushed him back against the wall with one of Gabriel’s broad, muscular thighs shoving up between Aziraphale’s legs, and he gasped, moaning into his mouth at the way Gabriel pressed right up against his crotch.

It wasn’t a regular thing. It wasn’t habitual.

Were it to become habitual, he couldn’t bear it, but now and then, at an uncertain time, Gabriel comes down to bother him, and Aziraphale drags him upstairs, lets Gabriel render his mind quite blank for a time.

Measures must be taken, of course – he had to be clear, and firm, else Gabriel would linger for hours on end, ask if he could _help_ with anything, touch Aziraphale’s clothes or his books, and generally be _bothersome_. Unlike Crowley, who used to— Well, Crowley would always take hints, and Gabriel wasn’t good at hints. They rather flew over his head – remarkable that so much should, when his body was quite so tall.

“They do other stuff,” Gabriel said, and Aziraphale undid his cravat, his shirt, pushing them both away – Gabriel wore no underclothes. He had said some time previous, squirming slightly and pulling a face at the thought, that he disliked how _tight_ they were, and that he didn’t like how lace itched on his skin at the edges. “The humans.”

“They do all sorts,” Aziraphale said, letting his own clothes settle neatly on the back of the chair, until the both of them were naked, and Aziraphale was _wet_ , his body ready indeed to take Gabriel into him, feel him fill Aziraphale up _quite_ to the brim. The first few times, he’d thought Gabriel was rather too large, but now, now he seemed _just right_ , the way the stretch settled like a warm hum in Aziraphale’s flesh when Gabriel wass seated to the hilt within him, the way Gabriel’s broad thighs allowed for such a comfortable _seat_ —

“No, no,” Gabriel was saying as Aziraphale led him toward the bed. “They do _other_ stuff. They— They kiss!”

“We kiss.”

“But not on the mouth.”

“We _do_ kiss on the mouth, Gabriel. We were just—”

“No, no, but I mean, that’s not what I want to do! I want to kiss other places!”

“You kiss my neck, don’t you?” Aziraphale asked, somewhat impatiently, and Gabriel looked down at him, and the beatific, idle obedience drains away from his face. Gabriel set his jaw, his lips pressing together.

“No, I want to do something _else_ ,” he said, and Aziraphale grit his teeth. He smiled through it, trying to hide the way his hands were twitching, and he wanted, he wanted, he _wanted_. He was wet, he was open, he was ready, he was _stressed_ , and all he wanted was release, and Gabriel, Gabriel was asking him to go _do_ something again, or go out somewhere, and every time, every time, it was _infuriating_ —

“What,” Aziraphale said, forcing his voice to be as close to reasonable as he could manage, which he didn’t think was very, but Gabriel was far from an expert in body language or tone, “ _do_ you want to do?”

“Sandalphon was talking about sex, and he said—”

“What does Sandalphon know about it?”

“A lot, actually! And he was saying that humans do something called forehead play—”

“Foreplay.”

“To make their bodies, you know, juicy.”

Aziraphale bit his tongue to keep from saying whatever was about to come from his mouth: he didn’t know what it was, but he had no doubt that it would be far more acerbic than he wanted for it to be. “We do not,” he said finally, in a measured tone, “ _need_ foreplay. I am— Gabriel, I can assure you, I am sufficiently _juicy_ as it is.”

The irony in his tone went over Gabriel’s head. “You can always be juicier,” he said confidently.

Aziraphale wondered – in a sort of desperately existential way – if he’d made a mistake.

“Well,” he said, with more patience than he felt, and the thought came, unbidden, that Crowley would never do this. Not that he’s thought more about sex with the hereditary enemy, even before their tiff a few years ago, or at least, not thought about it anymore than anyone else might, but— But _Crowley_ wouldn’t… Of course, even in a hypothetical, they could never so much as kiss, but he would never derail an encounter in favour of… of some nonsense. “What do you _want_ to do?”

“Lie on the bed,” Gabriel said, and Aziraphale exhaled, hard, raising his eyes heavenward for only a moment – not that it would help – before moving onto the bed, and he laid back against the pillows. Gabriel moved quickly between his legs, and Aziraphale let his head fall back onto the pillow. It wasn’t likely, he supposed, to be all that different to Gabriel’s usual fumblings around the area, until Aziraphale got impatient and dragged Gabriel flush against him himself, but—

Gabriel took hold of Aziraphale’s thighs, pressing his fingers into the skin and _pushed_.

“Ah—” Aziraphale complained as Gabriel pushed his knees up, shoving his thighs apart, and _looked_ at him. Aziraphale felt his cheeks flush, and he tried to close his knees in, but Gabriel put his broad hands on the plump curve of Aziraphale’s upper thighs, keeping them apart. “ _Gabriel_ ,” he said, “I really don’t think you need to _examine_ —”

“I just wanna see what I’m working with!” Gabriel said, and he looked up at Aziraphale with his eyes wide, the light catching the startlingly violet colour in them. Aziraphale felt _embarrassed_ , but he sighed, turning his head to the side and folding his hands over his belly, interlinking his fingers.

“Fine,” he said, and he tried not to look at Gabriel as he leaned in. It wasn’t— Not that Aziraphale was an expert, not at all, but he was _fairly_ certain this wasn’t really the norm, and it was rather dampening what had been quite the spark of desire, having Gabriel lean over him like he was some sort of physician. His thumbs came in a little closer, brushing over the outer regions of Aziraphale’s sex and then pressing down slightly before he _dragged_ , and Aziraphale hissed out a noise as Gabriel gently pulled his outer lips apart, no doubt to get a better view of the pink, soft flesh that lined it.

Not that Aziraphale had ever _examined_ his own—

But one saw such things in art.

Aziraphale was _not_ art, and he didn’t at all like to be looked at in this way, humiliating prickling over his every edge of skin as Gabriel leaned in closer. He breathed hot Aziraphale’s entrance, and then pressed closer—

Aziraphale yelped as Gabriel’s nose brushed against his clit, and Gabriel asked, “What does it taste like?”

“What does what—”

Gabriel’s mouth was on his clit, his tongue pressing hot and wet against the base of it, his clips closing around the top like he was putting his mouth on a peach – not that Gabriel would ever do _that_ , as detestable as he found the concept of actually consuming something nourishing – and _sucked_ , and Aziraphale very nearly screamed.

It was not the same as being had. Not at all. That was different, that was different indeed – he could enjoy the feeling of Gabriel inside him, the stretch of his own body to accommodate the archangel’s girth, enjoy the press of him against the back of the organ, on the roof of his— Goodness, he wished he felt more comfortable with the more vulgar terminology for such things as these.

In any case, it felt _different_. Certainly, his clit would brush up against Gabriel when Gabriel thrust within him, and that pressure was pleasant, but this stimulation, this was direct, this was _astonishing_ , and he was aware that he was still making nose, his hands drawn away from his belly, clenching and grabbing at the scant air.

“Are you okay?” Gabriel asked, pulling back as Aziraphale groaned his loss. “Did that hu—”

“Don’t _stop_ ,” Aziraphale gasped out, dragging at Gabriel’s hair, and for just a second, Gabriel had a grin on his face. It was different to his usual – lopsided, this one, lopsided and eager with his eyes wide and shining, like he was _pleased_ with himself.

And then he put his mouth back about Aziraphale’s clit, and he _sucked_ , laving his tongue over the bud and making an electric burst of pleasure run up Aziraphale’s spine, twisting and then bursting like a firework in his gut. He couldn’t stop himself from making the noises he was making – eager, wet whimpers, harsh gasps, high moans – as Gabriel put his fingers either side of his open— Oh, he might as well – his open cunt, and _pressed_ , and it was astonishing.

He was gripping rather hard at Gabriel’s hair, he realized, but he could barely remain cognizant of it as he thrust his hips up to meet Gabriel’s mouth, as Gabriel explored him with his tongue and his mouth. Sucking the clitoris was good, _yes_ , but then he moved down lower, sucked a line down the edge of his lip, pressed and played with the flesh that cushioned the opening on either side, _massaged_ him.

He leaned lower, dipped his tongue _inside_ Aziraphale, and Aziraphale choked, locking his thighs tight about Gabriel’s head and keeping him in his place, his nose dragging against the soft flesh just beside his clit.

It felt so—

It felt so _fast_ , compared to before: the crest of pleasure seemed to come quick toward him, tension gathering and gathering in his belly like the pressure that built up before a sudden storm, and Aziraphale was _moaning_ , grinding up and against Gabriel’s tongue, his lips.

_What would Crowley be like?_

The thought came unbidden, hitting him like a lightning strike.

 _With that tongue of his, that strange and snakeish tongue_ , _what would he…?_

“Fingers,” Aziraphale gasped out, gripping so tightly at Gabriel’s hair he felt he might tear some of it out. “Fingers, please, please— _No_ , not on me, _in_ me, press them into me, Gabriel, Gabriel—”

Gabriel slid two fingers easily into him as he went back to sucking on Aziraphale’s clit, and he sucked— so splendidly, it was _superb_ , it was spellbinding, it was every sibilant adjective under the sun, and Aziraphale felt his orgasm rush over him like a tsunami, clapping over his awareness, and his mind was _blank_. He felt his whole cunt _clench_ , felt the twitches and tremors in his muscles, and he rode it through, his eyes tightly closed, his legs pressing in _hard_ against Gabriel’s cheeks as he arched his back for more.

“Don’t— don’t stop,” he mumbled, grabbing with his other hand at the sheets. “And— Ah, ah, scissor your fingers, Gabriel… No, no, don’t you know what scissors are?”

Gabriel hummed a negative, but the vibrations from the sound made Aziraphale arch right off the bed, and Gabriel shifted his position, pressing his tongue against his fingers, licking, _licking_ —

“Push— push them apart, in a V shape— _aah_ , yes, yes, I like, I like that, Gabriel, the stretch on the ring of muscl— _Mmm_ —” Gabriel pressed a sloppy kiss to the side of it, and Aziraphale exhaled, his trembling thighs relaxing and coming a little apart. “Can you— crook them, no, _crook_ them, like a crochet hook, no, _no_ , like— Press on the roof, just— _There!”_

It was a dull, _desperately_ good pressure, constant, and it reminded Aziraphale of the drumbeat in some orchestral movement, setting up the rhythm for the rest to follow, the way it felt when Gabriel’s crooked fingers pressed up, right against—

“Go back to sucking,” Aziraphale said, and then remembered himself, and added, “ _please_.”

After a while, Gabriel pulled back slightly, keeping his fingers gently thrusting, and he said, “My jaw feels— I don’t know, like, tired? You know when you jog, and your thighs feel hot and kinda prickly, acidic?”

“Gabriel, you know what pain is,” Aziraphale said, too dreamily to really be impatient with him.

“Yeah, well, it doesn’t _hurt_ , hurt, it’s just—”

“Aching?”

“ _Yeah_ , that’s it.”

“Well, that’s a shame. You’re the one, I might remind you, that wished to begin this endeavour…” He looked at Gabriel, and his heart shocked at the sight of him, his perfect hair mussed by Aziraphale’s grabbing hands, his chin and mouth _dripping_ with wetness, his lips slick and shiny. Gabriel’s cheeks were flushed, and his pupils were just a little wider than usual ( _but not like Crowl—_ ), and he was breathing heavily. “What, you want to— to _stop_?”

“Can I fuck you?” Gabriel asked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and, in something of a daze (how long _had_ he kept Gabriel between his legs? It had been rather a long time—), Aziraphale nodded his head.

\--

Later, he watched Gabriel massaging his jaw, sitting on the bed. It was the pain that was silly – it was the fact that Gabriel looked so _baffled_ by it, and Aziraphale asked as he got dressed, in a casual voice, “I suppose you’ll want me to, ah, return the favour?”

“What favour?” Gabriel asked, awkwardly pulling on his trousers one-handed.

“The— I _meant_ ,” Aziraphale said, adjusting his tact, “that I presume you’ll want me to put— you know, put _my_ mouth on your…?”

“Oh, _no_ ,” Gabriel said, looking at him and, as ever, twisting up his mouth and his eyebrows in that ridiculously expressive manner of his, shaking his head. “ _No_. It’s too big.”

“I’ve put rather larger things than _that_ in my mouth,” Aziraphale lied. Gabriel’s lips parted, his eyes widening a little, and he looked up at him with— Rather a lot of wonder in his eyes, actually. He looked quite surprised, in wonder, and at _Aziraphale_. His fingers kept rubbing at the side of his jaw, and Aziraphale huffed out a frustrated noise, conjuring a cold compress to his hand and saying, “Oh, come here, you fool.”

Gabriel hissed as Aziraphale replaced his hand with the compress, and he squeezed his eyes shut, but then the compress pressed against the skin, and he exhaled a sigh, evidently finding it soothing.

“Thanks,” he said.

“Hm, yes, well,” Aziraphale said, not liking the way Gabriel’s gaze lingered on his face, feeling a ghost of that embarrassment from before. “Do take your time up here, getting dressed. I’ve work to be getting on with downstairs.”

“Oh,” Gabriel said, and Aziraphale pulled on his cravat as he descended the stairs.

Gabriel made his own way out.

 


End file.
